The Health Consultant
by ElvenWildmage
Summary: When an evil force disrupts a meal, you see the Council in a whole new way... hungry. Er, maybe it's not THAT dramatic. :D
1. An Unexpected Visitor

Disclaimer: Except for the Health Consultant, I own NOTHING. The characters belong to Tolkien the Great.   
  
After the Council was done deciding who would take the ring to Mordor, Elrond invited his guests and the newly made Fellowship to a feast. He lead them to the dining room where a large, rectangular table was laden with a wide variety of foods, which everyone couldn't wait to sink their teeth into. But little did they know of what would happen, something that would cause everyone great distress... and hunger.  
  
They had situated themselves around the table in finely carved wooden chairs, when from the door a sophisticated looking woman in her early thirties walked in. Her glossy blonde hair was put up at the back of her head; she wore a white blouse, a gray skirt, black high heels, wire rimmed glasses, and carried a black leather briefcase. She looked as if she was a hippie when she was younger, then grew up to become an accountant, or... something else.  
  
She smiled at the council. "Hello, everyone!" she said brightly. "My name's Pegean (pronounced 'pig-EEn') and I am your Health Consultant." She strode to the head of the table and took a chair next to Elrond, who looked positively bewildered. She placed her briefcase on the table, pushing a plate and goblet away. She took out a clipboard with paper and a pen, and continued. "Now, I understand you have just voted for some people to take a possessed ring to a volcano. That'sgreat, goodforyou. Did you ever once think about your health? That's why I'm designing a diet plan for everyone, so you all can stay healthy and fit on your excursion."  
  
By now, everyone looked around at each other, plainly thinking, Who hired this crazy woman? Pegean took no notice of this behavior. "Now, if you've been selected to go to the volcano, please raise your hand." Nine people reluctantly did so, and the Health Consultant scribbled their names on the paper.   
  
"Right," she went on. "I now must ask each of you what you like to eat, starting with," she glanced at her list, "Mister Frodo Baggins."  
  
Frodo looked nervously at her. "Um, well," he stammered. "I don't cook. I usually eat what Sam cooks for us hobbits."  
  
Pegean scanned her list. "Ah, yes, Mister Samwise Gamgee. What of you?"  
  
"Well, ma'am, we eat a balanced meal in my opinion," Sam stated. "Merry and Pippin like their vegetables, so we get plenty of those. And fish, fish too."  
  
The Health Consultant's eyes lit up. "Great! Fish helps improve brain functions. Ah, and remember: grill over fry!" She got up and paced in her area, rambling on about cholesterol and boring the council into a stupor. She talked so much she didn't notice the hobbit named Pippin taking an envelope from her briefcase and ducking back under the table again.  
  
After ten minutes of talking Pegean plopped down on her chair and took up her list again. "Mister Gimli," she announced. "What do you like to eat?"  
  
"Dwarves are miners naturally," he told her importantly. "So after a hard days work we like to finish the day with a feast. Malt beer, and red meat right off the bone!"  
  
The other dwarves present murmured and nodded their approval. Pegean, however, wasn't so happy. She had a hand over her heart and looked mortified. "Beer?" she squeaked. "Red meat? Mister Gimli, how long do you expect to live? First of all, any kind of alcohol is bad. Not good, bad. Bad, bad, bad.  
  
"And smoking is bad for you, too!" she cried shrilly. She pried pipes from Gandalf, Aragorn, some of the dwarves and Boromir, who were just bored and needed anything to do. Pegean snuffed them out with a spoon, locked them in a box and put that box into her briefcase. "If you want a lot of problems with your life, and a death soon, go ahead!"   
  
She looked as if the last thing she would ever do was relinquish their pipes. Those who were robbed looked very irked.  
  
She flipped through her briefcase and took out a packet of dorky health brochures. she passed them out around the table, but no one had the slightest inclination of glancing at them.  
  
Sitting back in her chair, Pegean resumed her cheery disposition as if nothing had happened. She looked back at the list and called out the next name : "Mister Legolas, what would you bring on the journey to feed everyone?"  
  
The Health Consultant glanced up from her list and gawked openly at the elf. Legolas reddened. "I would bring lembas, waybread," he stated. He looked down at his plate, disliking people staring at him.  
  
Elrond, still a bit confused, passed her a portion of lembas, which she ate without thinking about it. "This is good!" she said surprised. "Tastes natural and light, kind of like an energy bar!"   
  
Legolas felt sick. He stood and excused himself, saying he needed to take a walk, and bolted out the door.  
  
Pegean called after him in dismay. "Legolas! Wait for me!" She started to get up, but Elrond grasped her arm. "You didn't come here to scare away members of the fellowship like a lovesick orc!" Seeing she was already eyeing someone else, (a tall, dark-haired elf for those who know him) he continued. "You aren't to flirt with those who aren't going either!" 


	2. The Letter

NOTE: The text program I use to write this with either doesn't do italic and bold, or I don't know how. *glares at evil text program* So, that being the case, I shall use double colons to express a thought or a stressed word. I ::think:: that'll work. *nods*   
  
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Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin were having a secret meeting under the table. They were looking at the envelope, which had been glued, taped, and tied with string, as if the person it was given to never wanted to see what was inside again.  
  
"Should we open it, then?" Pippin whispered.  
  
Merry looked at the envelope carefully. "It's only fitting," he determined.  
  
He slid a butter knife swiped from the table top under the stuff holding it together and flipped it open. He pulled out a letter that smelt of bad perfume, and two photos.   
  
The edges of the pink stationary were crumpled, and the ink was splotched with drops of water, as if the reader had been blubbering over it.  
  
The letter, written with a purple gel pen, read:  
  
Hey Pegean! Cindy and I went to this quaint little restaurant by the wharf today. Our lunch wasn't anything spectacular, (soybean sandwiches, veggie fries, that sort of thing) but what REALLY got us was a very unique dessert: a deep-fried twinkie! Imagine! It was even better than a standard twinkie. We had two each, but don't worry, we squeezed most of the oils and fats out beforehand. The inventions of today! You know, I'm a bit sick of watching what I eat to an extent. I'm going to put away my diet charts and open a confectioner's shop. Cindy seconds it. We'll be starting cooking classes next month. Later! Love ya! Doris  
  
The two hobbits thought this over for a moment. They looked at the pictures. Two women, who reminded them vaguely of Pegean, held fluffy golden cakes in one picture. In the other, a close up of one of the cakes with it's end bitten off was seen, revealing white cream in the middle.  
  
"So that's a deep-fried twinkie," breathed Pippin, who felt his present hunger double.  
  
"We ought to tell someone about this," Merry pointed out. "But who?"  
  
They pondered this over for a minute, then looked at each other and said simultaneously, "Gandalf!"  
  
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Gandalf the Gray was deeply irritated. This woman many years younger than him stole his favorite pipe and was telling him what to eat. He was so absorbed in his angry thoughts he wasn't expecting a tug on his robes, and when that happened he nearly jumped off his chair. Pretending to adjust his boot, he peered under the table and saw two familiar faces.  
  
"Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, I should have known," he said with a smile.  
  
Pippin thought sarcastically, ::He can't say anything else when he sees us, can he?:: What he said was, "We've got something you should see." He passed the envelope to Gandalf and scooted away.  
  
The Wizard quickly read the note. ::This is good:: he thought. ::We can get rid of her this way. But how to use it? I can't do it::  
  
He looked down the table and saw a man glowering at the Health Inspector, who at this time was talking about Red Meat. He was proud, valorous, and (by the way he was looking at the food) HUNGRY. Surely he'd help the hobbits.   
  
Gandalf waved the envelope around under the table, and Merry and Pippin crawled over. Gandalf handed it to them and whispered to them, the most important thing being, "Boromir." He sat up in his chair and pretended to listen to Pegean's lecture, hoping they'd come up with a plan soon.  
  
The hobbits, having listened to Gandalf, were trying to find Boromir. But all they could see from under the table were breeches and boots, which looked alike: worn down and travel-stained.  
  
::Boromir? No, shoes aren't nice enough. Boromir? No, Boromir doesn't wear this color. Aha! Boromir!::  
  
Even though they had only seen him for a few moments, they could remember that he was outfitted handsomely. This fellow's boots were polished, though obviously worn, and his breeches had the barest traces of travel.  
  
It's him!" Pippin said. He reached out to pull lightly on Boromir's breeches, but Merry grabbed his hand. "How do you know it really is him?"  
  
Pippin looked carefully at Boromir's boot, which was resting on the heel. He saw tiny writing on the sole, and remembered when eavesdropping on the council what Boromir had talked about. "Look Merry! 'Made in Gondor'!"  
  
"Must be him, I s'pose," Merry concluded, and tugged on the hem of Boromir's breeches. 


	3. Operation Twinkie

Boromir, king of bad posture, was slouching in his chair, bored. He was thinking about sleeping when he felt a tug on his pants. Frowning, he looked down and saw the faces of the two hobbits who ran into the meeting.   
  
He grinned. Pretending to drop a spoon, he ducked his head under the table. "Bored?" He asked.  
  
"No," Pippin whispered, handing him the envelope. "Read it!" Boromir came out from under the table and put his spoon back next to his very empty plate. He made sure the Health Consultant wasn't looking and sank to the floor. He crawled next to the hobbits and opened the envelope. He read the letter quickly, and smiled.  
  
"Sounds like she'd go crazy if someone mentioned one of these 'twinkies." Boromir looked at the pictures. "You know, we could probably make something that looks like this. With, say... lembas and cream?"  
  
He formulated a plan in only a few minutes. "I know of a way to get rid of her. Will you help me?"  
  
Merry and Pippin nodded. "We're in it together," Merry said, determined.   
  
"Good," Boromir told them. "I need you two to get a few plates. I'll get everything else."   
  
They all inconspicuously sat in their seats. The hobbits swiped their plates with ease and swiftly put them under the table. Boromir, however, had a harder time.  
  
He scouted the table for the ingredients of the twinkies. The cream was right by his plate, but the lembas was placed towards the middle of the table. He was thinking bashing his head against the table in frustration when he saw Aragorn playing with a spoon. That gave him an idea.  
  
Boromir picked up his fork and twanged the prongs. After a few seconds of that he flung the fork. It landed deep in 3 cakes of lembas. He leaned across the table and grabbed the fork and cakes, babbling, "I'm sorry! Didn't think that would happen! Won't do that again!"  
  
He stole a glance at Pegean. She just nodded as though it wasn't a problem and went back to lecturing. He swiped the cream bowl quickly and sat back in his chair. A pair of hands from beneath the surface took the food.  
  
Boromir dove under the table again, and crawled to where the hobbits were waiting for him. "Alright," Boromir whispered. "Here's what we'll do."   
  
He used the fork to spread a dollop of cream on the middle of the lembas, and rolled the cake up expertly. It resembled the twinkie in the picture only if you didn't look at it closely. They proceeded to make two more "twinkies", placed them strategically on the plate and covered them with the second plate.  
  
Boromir then told them about the rest of the plan. The two hobbits nodded to show they understood. Showtime.  
  
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Pegean carefully looked over Sam's frying pan. "Mister Samwise, do you clean this after every time you use it?" she asked, scraping burnt flakes of who knows what off the inside with French Manicured Fingernails.  
  
Sam looked at her, angry. "Lady, I'll have you know I wash that every time there is water nearby. And if there isn't, I do it the next time there is!"  
  
"Yes, but do you boil your water before cleaning?" she retorted, not taking his hint. "Boiled water kills bacteria. You could get sick if you don't." She gave the pan back to Sam who sat down with a disdainful glare.  
  
Boromir, who was back in his chair by this time as well as the other two, knocked on the table 3 times hard, paused, then 2 more times. That was the signal to carry out the plan. He took a deep breath.  
  
He strode to the head of the table and turned to face the council. "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old," he boomed. "You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Cholesterol. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of fate - this one doom." He glanced at Pegean then said, "Bring forth the twinkie, Merry."  
  
Merry got out of his seat and took the covered plate to Boromir. He set it on the table between the Health Consultant and Elrond and lifted the top plate. Pegean gasped and backed away from the one twinkie resting in the center of the dish.   
  
The Council murmured among themselves, partly because of the deja-vu and partly because they had no idea what a deep-fried twinkie was. Soon, they realized what was going on and played along.  
  
"So it's true..." Frodo whispered.  
  
An unimportant genius said, "The doom of man!"  
  
Frodo grinned. "It is a gift," he told everyone. "A gift to the foes of Cholesterol! Why not use this twinkie?" He got up from his chair and paced. "Long has my uncle, Bilbo Baggins, kept the forces of Cholesterol at bay. By the stomachs of our hobbits are your lands safe! Give Hobbiton the, um, WEAPON of the enemy? Let us use it against them!"  
  
Boromir grumbled to himself. "I don't sound like that!"  
  
"You can't wield it!" Sam said. "None of us can! The Twinkie answers to Cholesterol alone. It has no other master."  
  
"Sam is right," Gimli said. "The Twinkie must be destroyed."  
  
Pippin jumped out of his seat. "Then what are we waiting for?" he roared. He dashed to the platter, grabbed the Twinkie and crammed it into his mouth. Pegean screamed. Pippin said with his mouth full, "ARGH!!! Hey, thith ithn'th tho bad!"  
  
Boromir discreetly dropped another 'twinkie' on the plate. "The Twinkie cannot be destroyed, Peregrin Took, by any stomach we here possess. The Twi-"  
  
"Sure we can!" Pippin interrupted. He grabbed the second twinkie.  
  
"NOOOOO!!!" Pegean screamed. She reached for the twinkie, but Pippin backed away. "Don't worry," the hobbit told her. "I'll get some of the grease out!" He squeezed the cake and some cream squirted out.   
  
Pegean shrieked as Pippin shoved it in his mouth. After swallowing, he gasped for air, staggered around and dropped into her the Health Consultant's lap.  
  
"What have I been telling you?" she sobbed. "You're doing what Doris and Cindy did!"  
  
The hobbit jumped up. "No I didn't!" he said cheerfully. "Because they didn't have 3!" He slowly reached for the third twinkie.  
  
The Health Consultant screamed and leapt to her feet. "I've had it! I've tried to give you advice but you wouldn't take it! Forget the $250 bill! I'M LEAVING!" She slammed her briefcase shut and stormed out the door.   
  
Everyone cheered except for Gandalf. "My pipe!" he groaned.  
  
Boromir grinned like a schoolboy. He held up the box that 'used to be' in the briefcase with the captive pipes inside. Gandalf never looked so relieved.  
  
After the cheering, everyone didn't talk, they just dove into the food like wild animals (even the elves if you can believe that!).  
  
The door opened again and Legolas peered inside. "Is she gone?" he asked nervously.  
  
"Yes!" An elf said. Legolas sat down next to him and proceeded to stuff is face with food while the other elf told him what had happened.  
  
With full stomachs and hearts, the Council of Elrond had perhaps their most memorable meal together.  
  
~The End~  
  
Thank you for reading my 'first' fan fic. Tell me what you think so I can be wary of things when I write more stories. ^_^ 


End file.
